


yours and mine are the same

by SereneShadows



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Awkward First Times, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Making Love, Mushy, One Shot, Soulmates, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SereneShadows/pseuds/SereneShadows
Summary: A picture in Link's Sheikah slate leads him to Princess Zelda's bedroom, where he learns how deep their relationship was.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 176





	yours and mine are the same

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy piece I really wanted to write of Link and Zelda, which took me way too long to complete thanks to depression.

“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”  
―  Emily Brontë,  Wuthering Heights

* * *

Hyrule Castle.

To think that the castle beyond the Great Plateau, the very core of his journey, would take so much work to get inside of.

Calloused hands told tales of many mountains climbed, bows drawn, monsters slain.

Fingertips nearly frostbitten off, burned away; broken, healed, only to be broken again.

And yet those calloused hands formed fists at Link’s sides. Taking in a deep breath of the musty air, he knew his journey was coming to an end soon.

His heart rattled in his chest, his ribs growing tight.

Exhaling, Link put a hand to chest.

_Heart be still_.

A mantra taught to soldiers who were paralyzed by fear, one that was coming back to him after regaining his memories.

_Heart be still_.

His heart under his command, he sniffled and lifted his head.

The walls had long crumbled, revealing the flickering red hues of dark magic. A torn tapestry fluttered as the wind howled through the cracks. There was a vanity long abandoned, the mirror covered in a thick layer of dirt and dust. A hairbrush sat atop, a hair ornament bearing a butterfly at the floor.

Link bit the inside of his lip.

A cold breeze tousled his hair. He turned, saw a grand bed, the canopy floating listlessly. The sheets, tinted in grey, were probably pristine and white before.

Link approached the bed, ran a finger across the blanket. He squinted at the golden embroidery, trailed his eyes up to the pile of pillows.

His head tingled.

He retrieved his Sheikah slate, opened the album.

There was the picture, of a glittering bedroom, the bed in frame; tall posts of dark oak, baby blue gossamer canopy, and spotless white bedding embroidered in gold.

Behind the bed was the tapestry, whole and without damage; the royal family’s insignia.

Link’s mouth fell.

Princess Zelda’s bedroom.

What did she include this picture for?  
  
Clutching the Slate, Link pondered the significance of this room.

Zelda had taken care to capture moments she felt were important enough for Link to remember. And thus far, those memories told Link a story of a Hyrule long ago, of a Princess desperate to understand herself, of her knight and how their relationship grew, of a futile struggle to save a doomed kingdom.

His heart rattled again, remembering the cherry tree shy of the castle, the picture on the Slate, what he found there.

He looked to the bed again, the sheets in disarray, then back down at the picture, the room fit for a princess, then back up again.

Swallowing hard, Link was beginning to understand.

He didn’t dare tame his heart, but instead let it run wild, as the memories came back to him.

* * *

Link was entering the room, Princess Zelda sitting expectantly on her bed.

“Close the door and come here,” she commanded him.

Link obeyed, then found his place next to her.

Zelda looked to him, her wide eyes gentle, her lips parted, her cheeks pink.

“Link,” she spoke softly. “I...”

She averted her gaze.

Link put a hand on her lap, leaned closer, concerned.

Zelda pursed her lips, shut her eyes, then pressed her mouth hard against Link’s.

He gasped, sat there frozen, as Zelda kissed him, squeezed his hand.

She pulled away, her expression so soft.

Link frowned.

Zelda eyed him affirmatively.

“I’m ready,” she declared.

Link raised an eyebrow.

Zelda read his expression and pouted.

“For you,” she clarified, “for the next step.”

Link maintained his stare.

Zelda sighed, leaned closer to him. She locked eyes with him as she took his hand and moved it up her lap, to her crotch.

Link gasped, tried to pull away, but Zelda kept his hand there.

“You’re afraid of my father, aren’t you?”

Link looked up, his wide eyes on Zelda’s serious gaze. He withdrew his fingers as far as he could, gave the question some thought.

The truth was this wasn’t the sort of thing Link had ever thought about. Sure, he and Zelda sometimes kissed, sometimes touched, but he didn’t consider going so far. It wasn’t so much that he was against the idea of sex, it was just something that rarely crossed his mind.

He averted his gaze, biting his lip, his cheeks burning hot.

It was true that he was afraid of consequences.

“I see,” Zelda said, understanding Link’s expressions.

Link pursed his lips and nodded sheepishly.

Zelda loosened her grip, and Link withdrew only slightly.

Then, her hand clutched Link’s lap, and she stared him resolutely in the eyes.

“I don’t care about what he thinks. I’m my own woman now, and I don’t need to answer to my father.”

Link gently held her hand, remembering how angry Zelda used to be when he followed her around. He also remembered what memory he found on the bridge to this very room, of a girl desperate to be her own woman, but still respectful of her father’s wishes.

Zelda continued, her voice wavering. “Father doesn’t have to know. No one does.”

She looked away shamefully. “I mean, I wouldn’t force you to do something like this.”

Link opened his mouth, let his eyes trail upward; from Zelda’s hand holding his, slender, seemingly glowing in the daylight; her rising and falling chest, the ample size of her breasts, the way her golden hair fell over them; her crimsoning face, her forever furrowed brow, her big doe eyes with long eyelashes, those soft pink lips he grew to love.

When he gave it thought, he realized that the only thing holding him back was fear, that it would be an honor to make love to Princess Zelda, his princess, who was no longer just an assignment, but a confidant, a lover, a soul mate.

Zelda felt his eyes on her, and she locked gazes with him, her stare still gentle and innocent.

Feeling the fire between their eyes, Link knew in his heart of hearts that this was the person he wanted to spend forever with. And he wouldn’t deny her anything, especially not something he would be honored to do.

“But...”

The word ambled out, almost hoarsely.

He swallowed, reached out a hesitant hand, pointed a finger to her lower abdomen.

Zelda shook her head. “The Sheikah have been kind to me.”

She reached to her nightstand, brought forward a small golden box. Inside were little heart shaped pills.

“Father doesn’t know about these, and he won’t know about us.”

Link stared at the pills, his brow furrowed. He didn’t know much about women’s health, but had a good idea what purpose those pills served.

Lost in thought, Link was caught by surprise when Zelda put the box back.

“Now then,” she pressed his hand with both of hers, stared him earnestly in the eyes. “If you’re ready and willing to...”

Link’s heart thudded, staring at her large eyes, her long eyelashes, her pink lips, blushing cheeks.

Zelda hesitated, then looked away, as if trying to find the right words.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please... make love to me.”

She squeezed his hands harder. “You’re the only one I’d want to do this.”

Link squeezed her hands back, memories raining hard on him, of the tumultuous start of their relationship and how much it had grown. It only strengthened Zelda’s words.

“I know,” he whispered. He freed a hand, stroked Zelda’s ear, warm to the touch. She shivered, put a hand to his cheek, fingered his earring.

They pulled each other close, softly kissed, eyes closed to the world around them, sensing through touch, exhales, vibrations in one another.

Zelda pulled Link on top of her, guided their bodies in place. She grabbed his hand, placed it on her abdomen.

“It’s okay,” she breathed.

Link nodded, despite being unsure of himself. He kissed her, again and again, as his hand travelled down her abdomen to the hem of her shirt. His fingers snaked upward, and he paused for a moment, surprised to not find a corset.

She must have prepared for this.

“You’re blushing a lot,” Zelda said, a smile in her voice.

Link bit the inside of his lip.

“Your face is making my neck warm,” she giggled.

He chuckled softly, momentarily relaxed, like this was not such a serious ordeal, even with the princess beneath him.

But everything in Link’s life was serious. Was love not something to be taken seriously, especially when the object of his love was his life’s duty?

Zelda gently stroked the back of Link’s neck, and immediately those worries melted away. He sighed onto Zelda’s shoulder, his hands crept up beneath her shirt, his palms caressed her breasts, and he paused for a second.

He shivered when he felt Zelda’s hands at his hips, snaking beneath his tunic, stroking upward, one on his spine, the other along his ribs.

When he felt his tunic nearing his shoulders, he felt inclined to help, and sat up, pulling the rest off. Zelda followed suit, and their shirts fell to the floor.

They took a moment to stare at each other; Zelda, admiring the faint white scars on Link’s arms and torso, telling tales of a boy who was not always an incredible knight; Link, transfixed on the figure of a Goddess incarnate, unmarred by combat.

Zelda smiled softly, stroking Link’s waist. Link sighed, cupping her breast.

He leaned down and they kissed again.

“You’re eager,” Zelda’s soft voice wavered.

She bucked her hips against Link’s, pushing against his erection. Link swallowed hard.

Zelda patted his head. “I am honored.”

“No,” Link whispered in her ear. “The honor is mine.”

He kissed her ear a few times, earning soft sighs. He gently squeezed her breasts, thumbed her nipples, loved the way she twitched and breathed in response to his touch.

He could get drunk off her, he realized, already growing tipsy. She was incredible in so many ways. To be able to touch her so intimately was intoxicating. He wondered if she felt the same way, from the way she touched him too.

She unbuckled his pants, and he struggled out of them, then helped her out of her pants and underwear. His eyes returned to her frame, completely naked and soaking up the sun. Goddess incarnate, Princess, the masterpiece of a vessel that housed her beautiful soul.

And she was looking right at him too. He snapped out of his daze, quickly realized this and grew self-conscious. She must have too, for she started to giggle again.

“How can you look at me like that?”

Her voice was soft and sweet, her smile wide.

He smiled back, still self-conscious, but a lot less so now. How cute, that Zelda could be so confident in herself in some situations, yet still be so unsure at heart.

And yet, when they were together, Link felt as though the two of them could take on anything. He felt powerful with her. He felt powerful for her.

He positioned himself between her legs, and she embraced him with them. They kissed, and held that kiss for a long time, her hand on his head, their hips so close, so warm, their pulses so loud.

“For you,” he whispered, before slowly penetrating her.

She gasped loudly, sighed loudly, put a hand to her brow. It wasn’t just the sensation, it was his words. It wasn’t, “For you, Your Highness”, it was simply “For you.”

Link seldom spoke, but when he chose his words, he chose them well, this time particularly well, and her eyes watered.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She opened her eyes, saw his face especially red, down to the tips of his ears. She smiled, stifled a laugh.

“More than okay.”

She put a hand to his hip, wrapped her legs tighter around him, prompting him to continue.

He rocked into her at a steady rhythm, with each thrust prompting a soft moan or gasp. She felt so good, so warm and wet, and Link had to occasionally pause for a deep breath. She was so incredibly beautiful, the way she clutched her sheets with one hand, put the other hand to her mouth, shut her doe eyes, her long eyelashes sweeping her cheeks, the way her breasts bounced, how her golden hair was splayed all over the pillow.

_My Goddess. My Princess. My Love._

He was on top of her now, foreheads touching, occasionally kissing, Zelda clutching his shoulders, legs still wrapped around him, Link picking up pace, breathing heavily on her lips.

They were lost in each other; the universe was gone; no Calamity, no Kingdom, no duties; it was just the two of them and the warmth of each other’s bodies pressed together.

Link’s voice grew higher in pitch, until he gasped, froze, and came to his release. Zelda shuddered at the sensation.

He exhaled sharply, collapsed on top of her, rested his cheek on her shoulder as he panted, her hand in his hair.

For a while they lay in silence. The day was coming to an end, the sun turning to a dusky orange. Link was still very much drunk off the experience, perhaps like he was sobering up, but still intoxicated. He sighed, caught in the rhythm of Zelda’s rising and falling chest, in the warmth of her body, of the way they fit in each other’s grooves.

“I love this,” Zelda finally said, breaking the silence.

Link closed his eyes and nodded.

“I love us,” she continued.

Link’s heart leapt into his throat. He nodded.

Zelda put her other arm around Link. “I wish I could stop time so this moment would last forever.”

Link looked up at Zelda, at her wistful stare, shadowed by the oncoming night, highlighted by the orange light of dusk.

He nestled into her shoulder, and nodded again.

* * *

The memory faded to black, a cold shiver down Link’s spine, then all at once, a gasp, and he returned to the present.

He exhaled shaky breaths, his sweaty hands clutching the Sheikah slate. He gulped, panted some more, stared foggy eyed at the bed where he and Zelda shared their love.

His cheeks were hot; so were the tips of his ears. His forehead was slicked in sweat. His heart pounded.

More memories returned to him, this time in snippets, of many other experiences on this bed between them.

He could now vividly recall the touch of Zelda’s skin, the way her golden hair fell over her bare shoulders, her breasts, the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin, the wetness between her legs.

He recalled her face, how she looked so vulnerable, in a way that only Link could see. No, she didn’t look the way she did when she was a sad and scared princess unable to awaken her power for the sake of her kingdom; she was simply a girl in love.

_Heart. Be. Still._

And yet, Link’s heart disobeyed him. Link, who could calm his heart for battle, who could steady his breathing as he swung his sword, drew back his bow, remembered he could not manage this for Zelda. For her kingdom, for her safety, yes. For her love, he could not.

They were vulnerable only for each other.

Slowly, Link approached the bed, no longer crisp and white, now stained and tattered. Reaching a shaking hand to the sheets, he felt an impulse to lay on the bed; perhaps Zelda’s smell still lingered; but he knew that in a century, her smell, like peace in Hyrule, was long gone. But like Zelda’s resilient magic, his love for her stayed true through time.

* * *

“I’ve always wanted to wear pink,” Zelda sighed, catching a pink blossom in her palm. “Not that I don’t like blue, but I’ve always wanted a dress in pink. Father wouldn’t like it. Blue is our family’s colour, after all.”

Link turned, eyed the pink petal in Zelda’s palm.

Soft sunlight passed through the blossoms of the cherry tree on Safula hill. Epona grazed nearby, Zelda’s pure white horse beside her.

A breeze swept through the grass, sent petals flying about. A few stuck themselves in Zelda’s hair. Link reached, hesitated, then plucked a petal out. Zelda noticed, and smiled bashfully.

Link parted his lips, thinking to compare the blush in Zelda’s cheeks to the blossoms, to say that pink would suit her, but his words were caught in his throat, as usual.

Zelda looked over, still smiling bashful as ever. Her smile deepened, and her eyes fell downward, like she knew what Link was thinking.

“I had a vision,” she began, folding her hands. “That night I passed out in the Goddess spring from the cold water, when I went to bed properly that night, I had a dream.”

She took in a deep breath, bit the inside of her lip. Link felt her inch her hand close to his.

“I dreamt of us. I was a little girl, standing in the castle’s courtyard, but it was different somehow. You were there, also a child, dressed in green. Then we were grown up, and I had to send you back in time. Then I was a pirate, sailing a flooded world with you. Then Hyrule was cast in darkness, and I was working with a witch to save the kingdom. It felt... it felt as though this dream went on forever. So many different versions of us in so many different worlds...”

She trailed off, left silence between them for a moment.

“I spoke to Lady Impa about this dream. She told me...”

Her pinky finger hooked onto Link’s.

“She told me that some people are always meant to be together, in good ways and bad. It wasn’t just you I kept seeing, it was Ganon, and in every instance he was a threat to us. But in every instance of you, there was... there was love.”

Link’s heart leaped upward.

Zelda continued.

“From what Lady Impa told me, I get the feeling that... that you and I are...”

She sighed. “I didn’t like you in the beginning, you know that. I hated you for doing what I couldn’t do. But... a lot has changed.”

Link pursed his lips, always having known.

He unhooked his finger and took Zelda’s hand in his. She looked him in the eyes; he nodded.

She smiled softly and leaned into his shoulder.

“Whatever souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.”

The breeze swept through their hair, showering the two of them in petals. Epona whinnied, shaking pollen out of her mane. Zelda always brought peace with her, like simply being in her presence was a little piece of heaven.

Link smiled, rested his head on Zelda’s.

_Whatever souls are made of, yours and mine are the same._

He liked the sound of that. Somehow, it felt right.


End file.
